


Ayurnamat

by karikes



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dorks in Love, F/M, I literally don't know what else to tag, Implied Sexual Content, Love, Romance, This fic is about LOVE, anyways did i mention this fic is full of love, because it is, but - Freeform, canon exists but i don't really mention it, except maybe love again, this is kind of a fill in the gaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13968771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karikes/pseuds/karikes
Summary: They find time for each other in parks and museums and his apartment, often quiet, but just as often full of debate and laughter.Well, Nyota laughs. Spock smiles.She’s fine with that.Ayurnamat:an Inuit word describing the philosophy that there is no reason to worry about the things that can’t be changed.





	Ayurnamat

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has bits of four things in it. Mostly I wrote [this]() at the beginning of last August and always knew I wanted to expand on it. And then I dug up a half-started fic (that I actually started even before _like birds' wings_ ) that I realized would go perfectly with it, so I smushed those together. And then I realized another wip that was languishing would fill in some gaps well. Finally, I pulled a little bit from [this](https://karikes.tumblr.com/post/163266848950/25-spuhura-kill-me). I hope it reads coherently despite the strange beginnings!

Nyota is human. This is the most glaringly obvious observation Spock can make about the love of his life, but it shapes every aspect of their interactions and every moment of their time together, so he cannot avoid it.

She expresses this in every small movement and word she speaks. She angers quickly and forgives just as easily. She loves him fiercely, protectively. Spock does not expect something else from her, because there is nothing else in her to give.

When they met, he was wary of any initial attraction to her because of her humanity. She was also his student, and there was no room to think of her as anything but an associate. He still thought of her more than he should have.

Nothing was acted upon for a long time.

There has just always been this: the knowing that crawls through his bones as he looks at her. She has not told him that she notices his attention, but there is a shift in her eyes every time he turns away, and a sensation that his shoulder blades are being examined from across the room.

He brushes against her once, in his hurry to get to class, and he apologizes succinctly before moving again, not quite running. He thinks about it all day.

Spock is more reserved than he normally would be the entire semester, but he has resolved to ask her if she will go on a date with him after finals.

She stares at him when he does, her mouth hanging open. “You’ve been curt with me all semester. Your worst students have received better treatment than me. You’re asking me on a date?”

“My behavior was such because of my attraction to you,” he says slowly, thinking that she looks beautiful this afternoon. She always looks beautiful.

“Oh,” she says softly. “I have to think about it.”

She emails him four hours later to tell him she’s free on Sunday evening.

*

The first time Spock says Nyota’s first name, she wants to freeze time in that moment and never have anyone utter her name again. It is soft and somehow less succinct than his normal speech, but it is exactly right.

“Say my name again,” she says breathlessly and tilts her head up towards him.

“The repetition of your name serves no purpose besides to fulfill your unnecessary request.”

He blinks, slowly. His lashes shine silver in the light outside her dorm and her mouth parts slightly before she can bring herself to answer him. It’s their fourth date, and she’s having a significantly better time than she believed possible.

“I like the way my name sounds in your mouth. Say it again, Spock.”

He doesn’t argue with her this time, just says “Nyota,” in that same slow and soft way, and then she stands on her toes and he is bending down to meet her. They aren’t touching anywhere except their lips at first, but after a moment, his hands touches her shoulder. She forgets how large he is sometimes, but she cannot ignore the fact that his hand completely covers her shoulder. Their kiss is careful, as she would expect from him, but it’s good. It’s good, and it’s exactly what she wants.

It doesn’t last longer than ten or fifteen seconds before he pulls away, taking the warmth of his hand with him. She reaches up to touch her lips, the feeling of his own moving softly against hers still lingering. He watches the movement of her fingers with his dark, unreadable eyes.

“That was amenable?” He asks, and looks at the steps behind her.

“Yes, Spock. God, yes.”

His lips quirk and she knows that he is smiling more broadly than she ever could have hoped for.

“Goodnight, Nyota,” he says, and the soft cadence of her name leaving his lips makes her float all the way up to her room and lie awake for hours after she whispers her own goodnight.

*

The next day, when she runs into him at the mess hall, she nods her head at a table, and they eat together. They talk about her upcoming midterm in Advanced Morphology and his suddenly absent TA.

“I could be your TA, if you need,” she says, stabbing a wedge of potato with her fork. She looks up at him, and he’s watching her rough handling of her eating utensil.

“I am not sure Cadet Trell has completely abandoned me. She has only been absent for one day and will not return my messages. However, do you not feel your current course load is sufficient to occupy your time?”

“I can handle it,” she says, and meets his eyes. “I wouldn’t offer unless I had the time. If Cadet Trell really has jumped ship, and I don’t understand why she would, I would be happy to replace her.”

His eyebrow quirks at her colloquialism. “Why would you not understand Cadet Trell leaving? Many of your classmates cannot spare the time even if they believe they are capable of being a TA.”

“Because,” she pushes the wedge of potato into gravy and slides it around her plate. “You’re an amazing teacher, and working for you looks good on resumes. Besides, I like your company.”

“Likewise,” he says crisply. “I will inform the dean of your desire to replace Cadet Trell. As soon as I am aware of what has happened, I will be sure you know.”

“Alright,” Nyota says, softer than she was planning to. “You know where to find me.”

Spock opens his mouth for a second before he actually speaks. “Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night?”

She doesn’t even think before her yes tumbles from her mouth. “Where do you want to go,” she asks, hoping he won’t say anywhere fancy.

“I can cook,” Spock states. “Would that be satisfactory?”

“At your place? Yes. Yes, that would be nice.”

They sit for a few minutes in silence before she says a little breathlessly, “I don’t know where you live.”

“I reside in faculty quarters, on the opposite end of campus from the dorms. The simulations are held in the next building over. Do you require a map?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “I know where the sim building is. I’m sure there’s a sign indicating faculty housing. Do I need an apartment number, or?”

Nyota doesn’t finish her sentence, leaving off her last few words and replacing them with the rising inflection of a question. He does not understand why humans simply do not say they are unsure and require more information instead of exercising this inefficient sentence structure. He would not have expected Nyota to demonstrate her unsurety with such poor grammar, but he decides that to draw attention to it would be perceived as unwelcome.

“I occupy the fifth unit on the fourth floor. However, you will need a faculty identification card to enter the building so this information is useless to you. I will be in my office when you are finished with class. We can walk to my quarters together.” He pauses for a moment with something akin to hesitation. “If that would be amenable, of course.”

She nods and finally places the potato she’s been fiddling with in her mouth. Spock realizes he has forsaken his own food to study the line of her hand lifting her fork to her mouth. It is foolish and serves no purpose to watch her eat, and yet, he find himself still watching her while he resumes eating his salad.

She sees him once between their lunch and planned dinner. It is a quick moment of passing on the quad, her hurrying to class and him walking crisply towards his office. He nods in passing.

“Cadet Uhura.”

Despite the formality of his address, his tone of voice is not, and it makes her stomach loosen a little. It had tightened when she had seen him at first, as if the beginnings of physical intimacy would change their relationship fundamentally.

If she’s going to be his TA, they can only fool around for a bit anyways.

*

Here’s the thing: Nyota likes him too damn much. They have to- absolutely must _stop_ \- and yet she is drawn to him so strongly- and he to her.

Their relationship is slow and all at once, the way it crashes over them and tugs them out to sea together. They simply spend all of their free time together, with few words, if any, exchanged about it. They just know exactly what the other is to them, and that is all.

And then she is working for him, which she likes, really. They work incredibly well together, in silence and in conversation.

But Nyota misses every little touch and small moment with Spock, in which they can be alone and not worry about regulations.

They worry about regs too damn much these days, and it’s driving her a little insane, all this making sure there’s always five inches between her and Spock, and they are never alone for too long outside his office.

She misses his cooking and stealing his socks and the sex- god, does she miss the sex- and even that stupid furrow between his eyebrows when he’s thinking that she sees far too little these days. But the regs exist for a reason and lord knows that Nyota Chausika Uhura is a rule-follower. S’chn T’gai Spock writes the rule book himself.

However, Spock is the one who breaks the damn rules, just once, three weeks before the end of the semester. He locks the door- he of the ever open office door, he who doesn’t lock the door to his apartment half the time because it is “unimportant” and “statistically unlikely for anyone to make the assumption that it is unlocked,” and furthermore believes that “it is nearly statistically impossible for anyone to enter my apartment without my permission.”

Nyota starts when she hears the jarring bell that clangs every time a door is locked on campus. It’s the most annoying sound she’s dealt with to date, and she never expected to hear it in Spock’s office. Her head swings around to look at him. His fingers are just dropping from the keypad.

“Why did you lock the door?”

Spock does not reply, just walks to the window and checks the filter on it.

“Spock?” She’s concerned something might be wrong, but he finally looks at her. His gaze is dark, enough that she shivers as he stalks towards her.

“We are not here right now,” he says. “What we are about to do did not happen.”

Nyota smiles as he steps towards her and thinks that the people who believe Spock is an uptight asshole couldn’t be farther from the truth.

*

They go on proper dates during the summer, despite the fact that Spock is teaching and Nyota is taking summer classes. They find time for each other in parks and museums and his apartment, often quiet, but just as often full of debate and laughter.

Well, Nyota laughs. Spock smiles.

She’s fine with that.

Sometimes, they fight. It’s mostly about the wider implications of their relationship, or one of them being unwilling to understand some aspect of the other’s species.

But they fight less than people believe they do. They’ve chosen each other above too much already.

Spock reads to Nyota, his voice gaining more intonation the more intimate they become, and she lets his voice roll over her like a waterfall as she sits next to him, beside him, on his lap- it does not matter, only that she is close to him. She reads to him in turn, choosing some pre-Reform poetry from a hacked Vulcan database (It was Gaila. Nyota paid her by arranging a threesome) and some of her favorite books as a child. He’s read some of them, but he listens anyways, their knees, hands, hearts touching because it is important to her.

The months crowd into each other and a year passes, their kisses often crammed between exams and revisions, but it’s alright, because they choose this.

They choose each other despite the difficulty of it all, because Nyota knows Spock cares in his own way- quiet, careful, methodical, making her tea exactly right, bringing her a padd if she forgets it, writing her a poem in the pre-Reform style that’s somehow the most erotic thing she’s ever read despite it being four lines and never once naming a body part- and she accepts him. He pushes her often- not always the best way either- but she pushes in return. They are the sun and moon, she thinks sometimes, their worlds aligning every so often in moments of perfect clarity; able to exist without the other but choosing not to.

*

There are three shifts on a Federation starship: alpha, beta, and gamma. Alpa begins at eight hundred hours and ends at sixteen hundred. Beta encompasses sixteen hundred to twenty-four hundred. Gamma is zero hundred hours to eight hundred.

Nyota prefers to work alpha- with her friends, although social interaction is not her driving force- but gamma is her second favorite. Not that she gets it very often, because the chief of communications isn’t very useful in the middle of the night. Spock works double shifts twice a week, though, and she likes to join him for at least one of them.

Jim put up a fuss about someone else being on his bridge while he was awake and not her for exactly two minutes before her look silenced him.

“No more than once a week,” he said, but Nyota hadn’t requested more than that, so it was all for the appearance of being in charge. She does respect him, but when she wants her way, nothing will move her. She won’t abuse her power, but Jim is sometimes jealous of the way she can make people bend to her ear.

He’s watched Spock practically bend over backwards for her, and known that it’s because he wants to and not because she made him. That’s the thing- everyone wants to do what she wants. Jim has charisma and is undoubtedly the captain of the ship, but Uhura’s magnetism is indescribable.

She doesn’t even have to say anything half the time, and people just part and let her through, no matter how crowded corridors are. She knows the power she holds in her small frame, but it’s exhausting to wield it sometimes. Spock is her anchor in the middle of it all, steadying her as she holds her head high. She steadies him in her own way; allows him to rest in the knowledge that she has no judgement for his emotional instability that he has felt deep personal shame about.

Nyota remembers the night Spock discovered that his emotions weren’t from his human side. It was his difficulty controlling them that came from his mother. She hasn’t seen him angry very many times, but that was the only time she was afraid of what he might do. His anger and frustration at being lied to and ostracized for something all Vulcans dealt with had culminated with his fist through Nyota’s dorm room wall.

Spock had immediately apologized and had been halfway out the door in recoil, but she made him stay with her that night. Gaila was gone anyways, and he needed someone to stay with him- even if he refused to admit it.

It’s been years since that day, and he knows now that Nyota will never do anything but stay, that nothing he can say or do will make him leave. He tried once after his mother died, claiming that it was for the better. Nyota had simply looked at him, said no, and that was that.

Spock appreciates her force of will, but she rarely uses it with him. She loves him enough to expose her soft underbelly to the warmth of his embrace. They’re vulnerable with each other in ways they refuse to allow anyone else to see.

Working next to him is something she never would have dreamed of when they snuck around at the Academy. Now, it is all she wants. At some point, she would like to settle down on a planet with Spock- whether it is New Vulcan or Earth, she does not care, so long as it is with him. Perhaps a child- but all that is in the future.

Nyota is here now, her hands light on the instruments before here, her head tilted to one side as she listens for any messages. Spock is recording data on the planet they visited that evening, quiet beside her. He technically has the helm, but he prefers to stay in his chair during beta shift unless it is necessary for him to move to the captain’s chair.

It rarely is, which she is thankful for. She should not be, when they are often parted from each other for large portions of the day and she is so used to being without him.

There is just something about the ship settling into evening with her love by her side. She cannot exactly explain it, but Spock always looks at her like he knows. That is one thing they never disagree on- the force of their love for each other.

Nyota wonders how anyone could ever believe that Vulcans are not capable of love or tenderness, when Spock shows her so much every day.

There are times, of course, when she understands why. They have their miscommunications. They’re getting better as they get older and grow older together, though. They choose each other, always.

*

They bond after four years, knowing that they want no one but each other. They have an Earth wedding on the ship first, a simple exchange of vows and jewelry- Spock wears his ring on a necklace, having reduced practicality for it on his fingers. It is simpler in every way imaginable than their Vulcan joining. But their Vulcan wedding is important to Spock, and therefore to Nyota.

The air on New Vulcan has more oxygen in it, and Nyota’s lungs thank her for the reduced strain when she puts on her gown. It’s incredibly ornate, the calligraphy of Spock’s house swirling down the front of it and the high neck creating a striking backdrop for her earrings.

The ceremony is largely other people talking and a gong being rung far too much. The actual bond is surprisingly quick, but Nyota suspects that has something to do with the officiant poking around in her head yesterday.

She likes the words of the vow, though. “My mind to your mind, parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched.”

It’s the most intimate invitation she believes she’s ever given Spock, which seems fitting somehow.

The feeling of him inside her head without touching him almost makes her stumble, though. She thinks that she’s going to end up replying with words for the first few weeks. He sends her only a pulse of warmth, though, focusing on the blessing the priest is offering them.

Afterwards, when Nyota is trying to maneuver her gown back down the hewn steps, she mutters, “Whoever said Vulcans don’t have a flair for the dramatic is wrong.” She can feel Spock laughing through their bond, and it’s somehow a richer feeling now that they’re bonded, as if he will arrest her with his joy.

His hand brushes hers and she can feel the rising tide of his affection that does not disappear with his hand. It’s strange, having him inside her head all the time now, but it’s a good strange that she wraps her brain around carefully.

“Now I have to go eat loads of Vulcan food and pretend I’ll be able to do anything except roll away from the table,” she says, staring at the hundred steps she still has to walk down.

“I will carry you if you are incapable of walking,” Spock replies, and starts his descent.

She can’t help her sunburst of a smile.

He smiles back at her in her head, and calls her _ashayam._

She thinks that she loves the way his brain feels when he thinks that word. She likes the way it tastes, too, but they don’t have space to do that right now. Later, after they’ve eaten their fill and slipped into impossibly soft sheets.

*

“This is not unpleasant,” he says, as they watch the stars of the Delta Quadrant pass by. It is 0836, and most of the crew members on the _Enterprise_ are starting their shifts right now. The observation deck they’re on is removed from the hustle and bustle of the ship, though. There is only the distant hum of the engines below them and her torso pressed against his.

“I know,” she says without turning to look at him. “Spending time with you always is.”

She knows he is smiling- she can feel it in his hand that rests on hers, in the way he draws in his breath and his finger twitches against her hand. Nyota used to like the overwhelming and all-consuming feeling of young love, but now she relishes the quiet comfort of what they have. There is a strength to their love that she never would have believed they could have. The bond runs thick and pale blue in her head, a river that will never roar any louder than the softness of Spock’s hands, a dream that will never cease so long as they both live.

“Likewise,” he says, that hint of a smile that means he really is quite happy, and then the answering twang of his smile in her head.

“We should go to bed soon.”

“We should,” Spock replies, but he does not make to stand up, and she does not want him to.

At some point in the next twenty minutes, one of them (Nyota) will yawn, and the other (Spock) will insist they go to their quarters to rest. For right now, though, they are content to just be with each other.

*

When she meets T’Pring, he can sense her worry through their bond. T’Pring is flawless in everything she does. Nyota is not prone to jealousy, but something in her twists before she can hide it from Spock.

They only have a brief conversation with T’Pring before she returns to her work, but Nyota’s mouth is still set firmly for an hour afterwards. He waits until they are in bed to ask her about it.

“You don’t want me to be more like her?” she asks, in the darkness of their room in his father’s house. “You don’t ever regret choosing a human over a Vulcan?”

Spock’s hand finds hers in the blackness of a planet with no moon. “Nyota,” he says firmly. “I have never wanted anyone as I have wanted you.”

It is the truth- the honesty he gives her as a sacred part of himself.

He sends her one of his favorite memories, his hands cradling her face as he kissed her beneath the stars. It had been their third kiss and fifth date, and Spock had wanted nothing more than to stay there with her underneath the stars for as long as possible. Of course, he had to leave, and they’ve had a hundred thousand nights both under and among the stars since then, but he still savors the ache of knowing they had limited time.

She takes it, and he can sense the tears that fall down her cheeks as she tugs him closer to her. “I don’t regret choosing you either.”

They cannot regret. They love each other too much to do anything except face the future.

Sometimes Spock wonders exactly what he did to deserve a soul as beautiful as Nyota’s. Tonight, he does not wonder. He simply takes her as she is- as she will always be. And if he cannot always say that he loves her, he knows that she will understand. He says it when he can, and she will hold those moments as close to her chest as he does her body. She says it makes it more special when he does say it, though, so it’s not as if she believes he rations his love.

He could never ration anything for Nyota, no matter the rules he must adhere to as someone with Vulcan blood. He gives her everything she can, in the quiet place they call their own.

There is a wisdom and familiarity in their acceptance. They will always rise to meet each other in the dawn of a new day, understanding that anxiety over their differences will lead nowhere. Their love will take them everywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, but you really shouldn't expect two fics in a week again anytime soon. I've got this monster editing project I'm slogging through right now (but it _is_ more spuhura). I'm *trying* to clean out my google drive (I can't tell you if it's working yet).
> 
> Also, here's a sentence that I just couldn't make fit, but really liked: _Sometimes she holds his hand for hours and they share memories together while her head rests on his chest._
> 
> Oh, and if you'd like to read a sappy post about Spock and Uhura choosing each other, there's one [here](https://karikes.tumblr.com/post/171284487180/hi-this-is-a-soppy-mess-of-my-spuhura-feelings-but%20).


End file.
